| Home | Dream-king | Tempest | Pilgrimage | Stray | Cosmic Jokes | Anam Cara |
i tap my feet in rhythm with the clock's tiny hands most would think i was impatient but i am only tapping my feet sitting on this well-worn fence watching the floods sweep away scenes and stages and backdrops my legs get speckled with mud and rainwater that usually tasted of tears spatter me, the observer, feigning immunity stars die before me, blazing sadly into the sea extinguished by misplaced hope crushed by too-passionate expectations i take hints and cues and notes mumbling "i thought so" like a litany all in all, there have also been too many occasions for laughter i have amassed volumes of cosmic jokes one day, I was laughing too hard i fell.
i will choose not to love you if only because I know I cannot trust myself not to dream you see, I require certain illusions every day i am afraid you might… bore me i need to be fed with light so brilliant that I am not afraid to face my shadows sometimes I do wonder if loving you is somehow a way out, a trick question posed by the universe i always end up shrugging my shoulders, and saying i want to believe it… but i can't.
the autumn season jerked awake, naked arms stretching, thin fingers creeping across freshly-fallen leaves rustling long-dormant fires just once, it whispered in a voice still to gather strength, just one little thing, a stone, a tiny poem, a flower left in secret a treat, a trick, for old times' sake maybe, i thought when i have loosened some of the fear that has encrusted my soul for months i will go and gather the last autumn flowers and offer them anonymously like to an unmarked grave but there will be no looking back this time no looking forward there will only be that perfect moment to honor the ghosts of loves past.
i believe we are all pieces of one god puzzles scattered like stars i am a question you, perhaps are a possibility of an answer, or is it the other way around? i have visited you did you even feel the ripple of my intrusion? maybe not, you assumed i was simply one of those dreams spilling over one another, lost dreams sometimes able to seep into consciousness, sometimes thick enough to be tangible dreams like this thing i claim to be love (because i have long forgotten, what it was supposed to be) we are old pieces trying to fit in, i think i'm done trying, enough cutting corners of myself i will sit here now, simply a question, a possibility, a shining stone on a path, no longer waiting.
we are Stories walking, and everything and everyone is a chapter weaved in --- carelessly, gracefully, inevitably unless the Stars decree otherwise it is pointless to rewrite what has been finished, scrawled across the skies, echoing with finality yet sometimes, so rarely, a Soul is allowed a Boon and the stars would give up their rightful places to form new constellations we all watch closely wishing we will get to cast the dice to be an exception to the countless rules, an aberration, an excuse.
| i | ii | iii | iv |
Acknowledgements
